


Kindle the Lights

by Monorail



Category: Nebula (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Disabled Characters, Dissociation, Gen, Hanukkah Fic, Jewish Sun, Mental Health Issues, Mercury uses crutches and Neptune uses a wheelchair, Post-Nebula Ultra, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Sun, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, all the characters in this fic are trans and/or nb, this started off as holiday fluff and it turned into this, trans Mercury, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monorail/pseuds/Monorail
Summary: Tell me if you’ll be coming over for  Hanukkah. I need to know how much food to get.-SunDespite all that's happened, Sun finds himself sending a familiar invitation. His invitees weigh their baggage.





	1. who enabled us to reach this season

Sun almost forgot to ask the others, busy as he was with statements to the police and doctor’s visits and compartmentalizing the parts of his brain that were still screaming. In the months afterwards it had been hard to focus even on simple tasks. Hard to be in crowds without the noise and smell drilling through the blankness over this mind until rage bled through.  
  
So it was understandable that the approaching holiday almost slipped his mind, understandable that he nearly dismissed it as too much effort to invite Earth and Venus and the lot of them when he did remember.  
  
He was stocking up on applesauce and jelly when he did, typing out quick a reminder on his phone to make sure the donut place would still be open when he got out of work that night, to see if they still sold the weird greasy ones Venus liked.

Venus.

Would they be there? He typed out a quick question and paused before sending it, his mind catching up with his body. Two steps behind, not unusual.  
  
Would they want to be there? Not his problem. Did _he_ want them there?  
  
He thought about Jupiter eating the candles because Sun had gotten them in bright neon colors that year and Jupiter had thought they were candy, and how he’d burped wax for the next week. He thought about Uranus’ blatant and poor attempts to cheat at dreidel and how they'd sulk when Neptune called them out on it. He thought about Mercury, so small and still in the hospital bed, his head held together with staples and stitches. How he'd always try to help with the cooking for the bragging rights at dinner even though he was even worse at it than Sun himself.  
  
He didn’t think he wanted them there, but there was very little that Sun wanted.  
  
He sent the message, short and impersonal the way he knew he’d prefer if their situations were reversed.  
  
_Tell me if you’ll be coming over for  Hanukkah. I need to know how much food to get._  
  
      -Sun  
  
No false pity. Good.  
  
He didn't expect the near instantaneous reply that he got, a text that consisted of a long string of smiling golden emoji faces and cartoonish stars. Before he could do more than blink a second text had arrived, a **_yes!_** with more accompanying exclamation points than the situation warranted. He didn't have to check the accompanying name to know it was Earth, and didn't bother to reply. Unusual, for her to be awake at the hour he was willing to go out in public out: the three-to-six in the morning block of time was very good if you wanted to not encounter another human, including those he was most well acquainted with.  
  
He contemplated asking her for a moment, then snorted softly at his own foolishness. It didn't matter why she was awake. She was and she had given him the information he'd wanted: there was nothing more he needed from their interaction.  
  
Sun stowed the phone back into his pocket and returned to the task at hand, the momentary curiosity already fading from his mind like footprints covered by a layer of snow. Applesauce, jam, and since he knew Earth would be there, pancake mix. Even as a kid she'd had an aversion to _latkes_ , no matter what anyone had done to try and make them appetizing. Not even her sister coating them with enough caramel and honey to qualify them as _ingberlach_ had been enough to sway her.

He wondered why he remembered that. He wondered why it mattered.

Plastic basket in hand, he made his way to the self checkout and ignored the bored gaze of the only on-duty cashier in the store. His gloves would have stopped any accidental skin contact when paying, but Sun still had to get home in the dark after this; he didn’t have the energy to spare on conversation.

Sun replaced the store’s basket with his own cloth bag, pausing to tuck the edges of his gloves back into the sleeves of his coat where they’d come loose. The sleeves weren’t quite long enough to be comfortable and the worn green fabric was tight around his shoulders and chest. But it kept out the chill, and that was enough.

He ignored the buzz of the phone in his pocket, and twisted the straps of the bag around his wrist until it stung. Despite himself, it was easy to lose his focus when outside at night; if he wasn’t careful, he’d come back to find himself having walked miles past his home, his body moving on autopilot. With luck, the painful weight on his wrist would help ground him. Even if it meant that afterwards, in the safety of his home, he’d need to check to make sure that the welts on his wrist and the numbness in his hand faded instead of persisting.

It was a cold night, and that helped to focus on. It was good to focus on things that were different. Sun kept his back straight and didn’t look anywhere but straight ahead as he walked; he ignored the ever-present prickling feeling of being watched that had been fainter inside the store, in the light, but always returned full force in the dark. That was the trade-off he made for being able to get his necessary items without having resist the urge to attack every time a stranger wandered too close to him.

Sun almost missed when killing was a hypothetical. In the same way that he almost missed not wearing long sleeves and gloves.

The lights at his house were still on, just as he’d left them. He preferred to be able to see immediately if anything was different, to not have to wonder in uncertainty if a room that should be empty actually was. Having to replace light bulbs often was a small price to pay for that. Besides, he was tall. It wasn’t a difficulty for him the way it’d be for Mercury or Mars. 

He was glad that today was a day of blankness instead of uncomfortable sentimentality. Some days it was difficult to think of them at all without pain, everything about them too far away and too near all at once.

Sun locked the door behind him (regular lock, deadbolt, and door chain), and set the bag down on the kitchen table. There was nothing that needed to be refrigerated, and he was thankful for that once he disentangled his wrist from the straps, frowning at the numbness when he tried to flex his fingers. He could deal with the groceries in the morning. _Later_ in the morning, since it had technically begun over four hours ago.

He left the bag where it lay, leaving the lights on behind him and methodically locking every door. Alone, he settled cross-legged his bedroom floor and began to massage feeling back into his left hand. He was tired, in the flat, familiar way that he knew was emotional rather than physical. His heart kept fluttering with restlessness, still unsettled. Still gripped by the sensation of being watched by a being that wished him and all he cared for harm.

There would be no point waiting for sleep for a long while yet, and with a quiet sigh Sun tugged his jacket off, folding before laying it neatly beside him. With practiced ease he wiggled his binder off and stretched his broad shoulders. He pulled his shirt back on before resting his back against the wall, pulling out his phone almost as an afterthought. No other replies yet. Acceptable. He pulled up a puzzle app, one with subdued colors and simple enough rules to not require much thought. Pins and needles rippling through the nerves of his hand and all moving objects that could create a startling shadow long since removed from the room, Sun began to wait it out.


	2. in those days, at this time

Sun put the food away without thinking very much about it, mind caught on other things. The first night of Hanukkah was still almost a week away, and he revised in his head what he had and what he needed.

A menorah, plenty of candles, and a place to set them up. Done.

A lighter, a backup lighter, extra lighter fluid, a blow torch, a flare gun, a propane gun, and several packs of matches. Done, of course.

Not all of those would likely be needed for the candle-lighting, but. What was the point of celebrating the endurance of fire if you couldn’t burn other things too?

Food: latkes, donuts, applesauce, chocolate gelt, challah bread, pretzels, pancakes, plus whatever substitutions he’d need to make depending on everyone’s dietary restrictions.

Without knowing who’d show up he couldn’t stock up on anything other than the basics. Gelt, applesauce, potatoes, flour, and as much oil as he could get to fit in his cupboards.

Sun paused, morning light streaming in  through the window and filling the room. He double checked that everything was where it should be, opening and closing cabinet doors with ritual care.

In the cold golden light, he almost felt at ease. Almost safe. Certainly closer to it than he’d felt since gaining the blood on his hands.

A lock of hair fell in front of his eyes, and Sun absently tucked it behind his ear again. Still blonde in the parts that fell over his face, but he knew without checking that black was growing in again at the roots. He usually never grew it out so long, but.

In the past months, it hadn’t seemed important. Hadn’t seemed worth the stress that letting a stranger bring a buzzing razor around his neck and ears brought. Or the stress of knowing that their fingers would brush his skin and that he’d simply have to hunker down in the chair an endure it if he didn’t want to look ridiculous and leave with half a haircut.

With a quiet sigh, Sun resigned himself to  actually looking at his reflection on his phone’s screen for once. He was right: his hair was a mix of black and blonde now, grown long enough to frame his face but not yet long enough to be tied back.

It was… strange. A bit like looking at a photo of himself as a kid. But not entirely unpleasant.

Dismissing the thought, he got down to business. He flicked open the messages that he’d missed. A few greetings from acquaintances that he ignored, and a couple more involving work that he’d respond to later.

And, at the bottom of the screen, several replies.

Venus and Neptune’s confirmations weren’t a surprise. He’d known that if Earth was coming then her sister would likely be there too, and that Neptune would follow Venus. Mercury was… Mercury. Sun couldn’t picture him staying away unless someone locked him inside.

But somehow, Sun hadn’t anticipated Saturn. They’d never been particularly close. From just from second-hand accounts (listening to Mercury complain), he wouldn’t have found it strange for them to decide to stay home and talk to their cats. It was...odd.

Sun wasn’t certain what he felt at the knowledge that they’d decided they wanted to be around him. Or at knowing that _he_ would have to be around _them_. It was sickly and warm, and ached. Like some kind of strange animal in his chest, pushing his organs aside to make room for itself.

He decided he didn’t like it.

Stick to the practicalities, he told himself. Saturn disliked eating food made from animal products, and Neptune was lactose intolerant. He began to draw up a list of food he needed to get, and jolted a reminder to make sure he still had last year’s recipes around.

If he was going to host these people, he wasn’t going to half-ass it.

It was easier when he had a goal in mind, no one around to distract him. There was of course still work to handle over the weekend, but nothing he couldn’t sort out from the safety of home. Besides, the others would have to learn to handle his duties themselves soon enough. It would be best to try to ease them into it while he’d still be able to fix things when they screwed up.

When the doorbell rang Sun paused with his hands buried in _challah_ bread dough, flour dusting his arms up to the elbow. The sensation of cool, sticky softness wasn’t very pleasant, but there was no way around it: kneading it while wearing gloves was a surefire way to infect it with some kind of disease, and store bought was unacceptable. It was Hannukah, for G-d’s sake: he wasn’t going to serve _store-bought challah._

Hurriedly washing his hands of the stuff before getting the door, Sun shook his head in resignation as the rings continued without pause, the person apparently deciding to jam their finger on the button until they got a response.

“I’m here! Give me a moment!” he yelled as he pulled on his gloves. The doorbell fell silent, not entirely to Sun’s surprise. There was only one person he knew who announced themselves in such an loud, ostentatious way. At least in person: Uranus _did_ have a habit of leaving…. **_colorful_ ** voicemails, though they’d only made the mistake of trying that one him once.

Undoing the locks and opening the door, Sun found himself almost unworried. Mercury waited with ill-grace on his doorstep, tapping the ground with the bottom his forearm crutches. Poorly concealed impatience written all over his face, but it wasn’t quite enough to hide how pleased he was to see him. Sun wondered if his own face had a similar expression: not quite a smile but a softening of Mercury’s eyes, a relaxation of the sour frown he usually wore.

Mercury wasn’t old enough to have wrinkles yet, but the skin on his forehead had creases that looked like they wanted to become them.

“Hello, sir,” he said with a nod of greeting.

“Mercury,” Sun replied, inclining his own head. “It’s good to see you’re doing well,” he said, his tone only a little bit dry.

“I’m here to help with the preparations,” Mercury said as way of explanation, pushing his way past Sun and into the house. Sun let him, allowing him to take the lead and hang up his coat as he relocked the door.

By the time he’d redone the various locks Mercury had made himself at home, the extremely fluffy hood of his winter coat easy to see at a glance among Sun’s own understated jackets. Mercury himself looked out of place among the scattered piles of papers that Sun had never quite gotten around to organizing, a beacon of corporate efficiency and fussiness in an pair of perfectly ironed black pants and white shirt.

For a brief moment, Sun almost wanted to hug him. Just to see how he’d squawk at the the flour that no doubt get on him, and how he’d immediately try to pretend that his dignity was in no way damaged.

“A lot of people would find you inviting yourself into their home without warning a little bit rude,” he just said instead. He crossed his arms idly as Mercury squirmed. He didn’t look abashed, because hell would freeze over before Mercury ever looked abashed, but he lost the customary look of smugness his face usually held.

“I, ah, had assumed that your lack of reply meant that you had no problems with my suggestion,” he replied.

Sun’s tone gave nothing away. “Your...suggestion.”

“To come over and assist you with the preparations for the Hanukkah celebration,” Mercury explained. “Which I’d texted you after seeing your invitation, and asked if there would any problems you foresaw with.”

Assume agreement until told explicitly otherwise: that was Mercury.

“And did you think nothing of the fact that I’d shown no indication of having seen that message at all? Perhaps because I was busy making food and wasn’t checking my phone?” Sun asked mildly, raising an eyebrow.

“...I did not, sir.” Mercury was shifting in how he balanced on his crutches, looking slightly uncomfortable under Sun’s stare. “I deeply apologize, sir, for inconveniencing you like this,” he said, long familiarity making the stiff phrase sincere. “I can leave, it’d be-”

“There’s no need,” Sun cut him off with. “You’re already here, so you might as well help.”

Mercury perked up at that, gray eyes bright. Sun felt as close to happy as he ever did, the uncommon lightness in his chest strange and… nice. He wanted to make it last. “What do you need, sir?”

Sun looked meaningfully at the tall wooden cabinet against the wall and Mercury looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.

Keeping the amusement out of his voice, Sun said “The silver needs to be polished- you already know where the polish and rags are, right?”

“I do,” Mercury confirmed sullenly. Neither of them enjoyed the monotonous task: Mercury hated the strong, acidic smell of the cleaner and the boredom of cleaning tarnish off the utensils, which always took at least two hours, and Sun hated the sensation of the greasy cleaner over his fingers and under his nails. Every year they’d have some variation of this conversation, with one of them passing the unpleasant task off on the other with some excuse or another and neither of them willing to admit weakness by refusing outright.

With a quickly-suppressed sigh Mercury started off towards the kitchen to get the silver polisher and Sun followed behind, ready to return to his forsaken _challah_ dough. As he stowed the gloves away and washed his hands in preparation to kneading it, he could hear the rhythmic thump of Mercury’s steps back into the living room and the quiet grumbles as he began his task.

The light through the window was a bright, pale gold, and the feeling of eyes upon him was easily ignorable. For the first time since the incident that had landed all of them in the hospital and one stranger in the morgue, Sun had company over.


	3. create me a clean heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this half-written for months- sorry for the extended pause! Hope you enjoy it anyway

He didn’t really intend for Mercury to stay for long, but he supposed he doesn’t mind it either. It didn’t seem like he should, at least, and it’s be more trouble to tell him to leave than to just let him keep himself busy while Sun spaced out. After so long working with him, he’d probably built up something of a tolerance for Mercury’s presence. 

Not that Mercury asked first, of course. He just made himself at home in Sun’s kitchen with a kind of thoughtless arrogance and almost flattering belief in Sun’s good nature. Maybe that was why Sun humored him.

It took a bit for the final loaf of challah to cook, and Sun took the opportunity to wipe down the counters and dispose of the excess flour. It was good to have something repetitive to do with his hands, despite the discomfort of feeling the powder against his skin. Sun ignored it; discomfort was a small price to pay for efficiency, and there were some things that simply had to be put up with.

Sun had never liked being touched. Not when he was a child unable to articulate why the brush of someone’s fingers over his made his skin crawl and sting like nettles. Not as an adult who could simply avoid the whole thing most of the time through gloves and long sleeves, since most people apparently considered the bodies of others public property to try and touch. If he were to search for it, Sun would guess that he would find a word pathologizing that kind of aversion, and well-meaning suggestions for how to overcome it. 

He felt no desire to do so. 

To his credit, Mercury never asked. It was equally likely to be out of self-absorption as empathy, but he took it as a matter of course that Sun didn’t touch people. Accepted it unquestioningly the way he did most everything about Sun.

It was a little strange, but harmless. Less frustrating than having to repeatedly tell Earth to just leave the damn rock on the table for him to pick up himself instead of trying to press it into his hands. Or telling Uranus that them having soaked their hands in antibacterial hand wash before trying to accost him didn’t actually solve the issue, and in fact just made them smell disgusting.

Fond of them all as Sun was, they had a way of trying his patience. Multiple ways, new ones of which they seemed to discover every time he interacted with them. 

Comparatively, Mercury was very good company.

Sun turned that thought over in his mind like a rock as he eyed him absently. He was settling into one of Sun’s good chairs, his sleeves damp at the edges, probably from trying to scrub the polish off in the bathroom. Judging by the look of faint disgust on his sharp face, it hadn’t worked.

Sun began to scrub the dough out from the crevices of his knuckles and from under his nails, waiting for the final loaf of challah to cook. A pleasant smell of warm bread was slowly diffusing from the oven as he patiently worked away every speck of possible contamination. Sun felt… focused. Acutely aware of his own body, his own presence of this space, this time. As if he’d suddenly switched from a third person view of himself to first person.

Sun didn’t move from the sink, kept his breathing relaxed as he checked his knuckles over once more before deeming the result acceptable. Mercury didn’t notice anything, consumed in unbuckling one of his wrist braces, and Sun shook his head once, roughly. He didn’t have time for this. 

In the other room, Mercury wasn’t silent (Sun was fairly certain that Mercury would only be silent if someone duct taped his mouth shut), but he didn’t say anything that Sun had to respond to. That was for the best.

He didn’t flinch at the raw scrape of the dish-towel over his hands when he dried them, the skin on the backs scrubbed a bright chestnut color, almost more red than brown. It was unpleasant, nothing worse than that. He was fine.

Sun ignored the sharp prickle of uneasiness on the back of his neck in the meantime. The blinds in the house were still open, and it was dark outside. Anyone could see inside. Assuming that there was anyone out there. Which there was likely not. Sun doubted anyone would describe his neighborhood as  _ good _ , but ‘desolate due to the hubris of modern capitalism’ described it much better than ‘dangerous’. He wasn’t sure if he even had any neighbors for him to be wary of- he hadn’t seen that Pluto person lingering around for a while, now that he thought about it.

Sun tugged his gloves back on, vaguely aware that Mercury was still talking to him. His persistence in that, rather than switching to narrating to the room at large, was part of why Sun wished that he could pay more attention. Knowing that Mercury didn’t actually care only allayed some of those feelings.

Sun ambled to linger at the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, Mercury’s eyes snapping to follow his movements. He cocked his head slightly, a silent invitation for Mercury to continue. Mercury perked up immediately.

“Right, so. I was thinking that perhaps it’d be best to send a list of ground rules beforehand to ensure that there will be no disruptive behavior,” he began to say, and Sun didn’t raise an eyebrow. “In the past I know there has been some absolutely  _ disgraceful _ lack of respect, sir, and sending the message that it will not be tolerated any longer would help curb it.”

He was starting to really into his rant, eyes bright and voice strident as he talked. That was something else Sun liked about Mercury: he  _ cared _ about the things he said, deeply and unabashedly. Even if Sun personally disagreed with him on a number of points, it was energizing to see someone so deeply convinced of the importance of what he was saying.

Sun nodded slightly at times, just enough to convey that he was listening, enough to encourage Mercury to continue.

“You find my methods lacking, then?” he said neutrally during one of Mercury’s pauses for breath, and Mercury gave him a wide-eyed look of horror and shock.

“Of course not, I only meant-“

“-That you think I enforce insufficient discipline, Mercury. That you could do better,” Sun said, and it was one of those strange moments where Sun wasn’t actually angry and Mercury wasn’t afraid, but they weren’t the types of people who could be playful either. The knowledge that he could very easily push harder, could make  Mercury’s bravado and easy trust in Sun’s patience disappear like smoke in wind, sat heavy on Sun’s knuckles. More than that, he  _ wanted _ to, an itch settling inside his brain for no reason he could discern, a desire to reach out and slam Mercury’s head against the floor until-

It had been a while since Sun had wanted something. He was fairly sure he didn’t like it.

“I would never, sir,” Mercury was saying earnestly, “I just- the others mind themselves around you of course, but amongst themselves they’re like a pack of dogs.” He grimaced, and Sun was fascinated by the way the raised scar that ran from Mercury’s temple to his chin twisted the familiar expression. “They’re completely without respect, and frankly I’m amazed they’re still tolerated in public spaces…”

Mercury pushed back as he always did, self-righteous, and the moment faded. Sun felt the impulse slip out of his head as easily as it had come and his shoulders slumped slightly.

He didn’t know what he felt at all. 


End file.
